Ghazal 68: My moon went away this week, and to my eyes it is a year

ماهم این هفته برون رفت و به چشمم سالی‌ست
حال هجران تو چه دانی که چه مشکل حالی‌ست؟

مردم دیده ز لطف رخ او در رخ او
عکس خود دید، گمان برد که مشکین خالی‌ست

می‌چکد شیر هنوز از لب هم‌چون شکرش
گر چه در شیوه‌گری هر مژه‌اش قتالی‌ست

ای که انگشت‌نمایی به کرم در همه شهر
وه که در کار غریبان، عجبت اهمالی‌ست

بعد از اینم نبود شائبه در جوهر فرد
که دهان تو در این نکته خوش استدلالی‌ست

مژده دادند که بر ما گذری خواهی کرد
نیت خیر مگردان که مبارک فالی‌ست

کوه اندوه فراقت به چه حالت بکشد؟
حافظ خسته که از ناله تنش چون نالی‌ست

My moon went away this week, and to my eyes it is a year;
what do you know of separation, what a hard state it is?

The pupil of my eye, through the grace of her face, saw in her face
its own reflection and took it for a musky mole.

Milk still drips from her sugar-like lip,
though in the art of charm every eyelash of hers is a killer.

You who are pointed out for generosity through the whole city,
alas, you are strangely neglectful in the affairs of strangers.

From now on I shall have no doubt about the indivisible atom,
for your mouth is a fine proof on that point.

They gave good news that you will pass by us;
do not change your kind intention, for it is a blessed omen.

In what state will he bear the mountain of sorrow at parting from you,
weary Hafez, whose body from lamenting is like a reed?